


Like a Sparrow

by Drakochan



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakochan/pseuds/Drakochan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <b>Disclaimer: The image artwork is not by me, please click it to go to the artist's gallery on pixiv!</b>
</p>
    </blockquote>





	Like a Sparrow

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: The image artwork is not by me, please click it to go to the artist's gallery on pixiv!**

[ ](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=14096982)

“Wait, wait… Repeat that?” Katakura Kojuurou didn’t look up entirely from his desk, but he stopped, the brush leaving a blot on the paper before he remembered, and lifted it away. He finally turned, to stare at the young woman standing in the doorway, her head bowed.

“Katakura-dono, it seems… Well, he’s jumped off the roof.”

“He what?” The letter now sported a large black blot that turned into a stripe that extended onto the table, and the brush lay forgotten as he scrambled to his feet.

“He’s fine, Katakura-dono,” the woman said hurriedly, upon seeing the look on his face, placing a hand lightly atop his arm. “He landed in a bush, he just hurt his wrist.” A heavy sigh was all the response the young retainer gave, and he smiled—a little forced—and slipped past her, and hurried down the corridor.

There was a flurry of activity near the gardens, and he spotted the boy easily, his dirty face lined down one cheek where tears had cleaned away dust and dirt, and he was holding his wrist with one hand, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. He wasn’t crying now, just sitting, swinging his legs and pouting. It was a marvel he had only a few scrapes and whatever had happened to his wrist, really, Kojuurou thought with relief.

“Bonten-sama,” he said, and felt a vague ache in his chest at the way the boy looked imploringly back up at him, hopping off the stone bench and standing in front of him eagerly, as if now that Kojuurou was here, he would fix everything.

“Kojuurou-san,” he replied, and then looked down at the path they stood on, ashamed. “I just wanted to see if I could fly, like the sparrows do.”

There was a quavering in his voice, and Kojuurou knelt down in front of him just in time for him to burst into tears again. Oh no.

“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself worse, Bonten-sama…” he scolded, but only halfheartedly, wishing he had something to wipe Masamune’s face. He was making an impressive mess of himself, really. The boy was already scrubbing at his face with the back of his hand, though, his other held stiffly to his side. “Is that where you hurt yourself?” A nod was all the reply he got, and a look full of shame from a bright, tearful eye. “Well, let me take a look at it, then.” The hand was thrust out towards him, scraped and bruised rather impressively. Other than a scrape on his cheek, that was all the injury he showed…

Bontenmaru had a devil’s own luck. That was the only explanation for it.

“Now, now, you’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you? So there’s no need to scold you any more on this matter.”

Sniffle, hiccup, nod.

“Besides, one day you won’t need wings to soar. I know you’ll reach heights few can imagine. That’s the way the Date clan has always been,” Kojuurou said, smiling gently.

The chirping of sparrows was the only sound besides the sniffle from the young boy as he wiped his face again, smearing tears and dirt across his cheek, and grinning down at Kojuurou.

“Yeah!”


End file.
